


That Bloody Cat

by iwish



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwish/pseuds/iwish
Summary: Grantaire's cat is missing. Enjolras helps him find it. The cat in question is called Brad and he likes to steal socks.





	That Bloody Cat

“I know it’s 3AM but I can’t find my cat.“

Enjolras sighed and rested his head on the doorframe. He really needed more coffee to get through this conversation.

“Tell me again why you came to me of all people?”

At this, Grantaire blinked and shifted uncomfortably on the step. “I just…I figured you’d be awake.”

He was right, of course, which did nothing to improve Enjolras’s mood.

“I was trying to study.” The words came out clipped and sharp and Grantaire took a step back, face going blank.

“Well, I won’t intrude. Goodnight.” Spinning on his heel, he strode down the corridor, away from the flat.

For a whole two seconds, Enjolras wrestled with himself, before giving in.  
“Wait, R.” The name felt odd on his lips. He rarely used the nickname, prefering to address Grantaire properly.

At the end of the corridor, Grantaire turned, with an eyebrow raised.

“Let me fetch a coat.”  
————————-  
Outside the air was crisp, but there was little wind. Leaves were turning russet and tumbling to litter the pavement. The pair strolled along in a somewhat awkward silence, besides the crunch of leaves underfoot.

"So…”

“So…”

Both men looked at each other, then away quickly. Enjolras cleared his throat and asked the first question that came to mind.

“What does - what does your cat look like?”

Grantaire huffed a laugh “Apollo, your conversational skills could do with some work.”

“Well excuse me for coming outside at 3AM to help you find the damn thing.”

“Point taken. He’s black and white, answers to Brad and will probably have stolen one of my socks.”

Not quite sure what to do with this information, Enjolras simply nodded. “Will he come if we call him?”

“That’s a good question.” Grantaire scratched his beard “Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”

A muttered oath was whipped away by a sudden gust of freezing air. Enjolras shivered and huddled deeper into the layers he’d hastily pulled on for warmth, before letting out an exclamation of outrage.

“Why are you not wearing a coat?”

“What?”

“A coat, R! Why are you not- ”

“I’m not cold.” The artist shrugged nonchalantly, even as another sharp gust blew a few curls across his face. Enjolras froze for a couple of seconds, taking in the sheer amount of stupidity in front of him. Then he was unwinding his scarf and holding it out.

“Put it on.”

“Apollo, I’m fi- ”

“Grantaire. Put. The. Goddamn. Scarf. On.”

Grantaire must have seen the look of steel in his eyes, for he sighed and accepted the token, giving a smirk when he saw the colours. “Feeling patriotic?”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, it’s very french. It becomes you.”

“Grantaire- ”

“As does that red jacket, not many people could pull that off-”

“Will you shut up for a minute please-”

“But I’m enjoying-”

“R, for the love of God, will you just listen!”

Grantaire turned to him expectantly, finally, blessedly closing his mouth. Then his face changed, as he heard what Enjolras had heard about thirty seconds prior.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

A keening wail could be heard, coming from somewhere fairly close. The men locked eyes, both feeling some level of dread as they turned their eyes upward.

And there, clinging to a branch, was a black and white cat with a sock in its mouth.

\-------------------------

“Well, I can’t climb trees.”

“It’s your cat!”

“You make a compelling argument.” R huffed out a breath and rubbed his hands together. “Well, here goes nothing.”

It was painfully obvious that he could not in fact climb trees.

“Wait, wait R, get down. You’re going to get hurt-”

Enjolras was interrupted by a graceless thud as Grantaire reacquainted himself with the ground. “Are you okay?”

Grunting in response, Grantaire dragged himself into an upright position, using the tree. “Well, I guess we could throw stuff until he comes down.”

Enjolras contemplated the idea. “We could always ask Courf to play the kazoo, that’d scare anything away.”

A huff of laughter drew his eyes from the cat back to the artist. His eyes were shining.

“What?”

“You do have a sense of humour!”

Enjolras sighed internally. And externally.

“I can also climb trees. Do you want your cat back or not?”

The look on Grantaire’s face was answer enough. “That’s what I thought. Hold my jacket.”

“Wait, Apollo what’re you-”

Not bothering to reply, Enjolras started up the tree. Within thirty seconds he was sitting on the branch next to Brad the cat.

“Erm. Here, kitty?”

The cat didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead it spat the sock out, directly on Grantaire’s head.

“RUDE!”

Enjolras sighed and tried again, holding out a hand to the cat. “Here, kit- er, Brad.”

There wasn’t time to move before the cat sprang at him. “Oh, fu-”

It landed on his head, obscuring his vision and knocking his balance completely. He wrestled with the tree branch for a few seconds as the cat scratched his head and tried to bite his ear.

Then his hands slipped and he fell.

\--------------------

“So, tell me again what happened?” Courf’s face was stretched into a wicked grin. He and Ferre were huddled around a table at the Musain, being treated to the woeful tale of how Enjolras “rescued” Brad.

“I caught him.” Grantaire stirred his coffee, a smirk threatening his lips. Huffing, Enjolras interjected.

“I would have caught another branch or something-”

“Sure, Apollo.”

“-and really, I wasn’t that high up. I would’ve been fine!”

Courf and Ferre exchanged a knowing look, then raised their eyebrows at the blonde. 

“Suuuuuure.”

A flush rose on Enjolras’s cheeks and he ducked his head, pretending to study his coffee and mumbling to himself, “That bloody cat.”


End file.
